Freckles and Scabs
by RebelzHeart
Summary: Mabel and Dipper, post-Sock Opera at two am.


Mabel finds Dipper awake around one in the morning, chugging down a mix between coffee and hot chocolate (because oh, he tries to pretend that he's mature by drinking coffee straight but they both know that he hates the bitter taste).

She's going down for a glass of water after waking up at midnight, wearing her bright pink cow slippers, one of which had the nose fall off a while back and now looks like an alien with dog ears (or so Dipper claims. Mabel thinks that they look adorable). She's braided back her hair, some odd semblance of normality after the wild weirdness of the day, and has opted for shorts and a neon yellow t-shirt instead of her normal sleepwear (just in case she needed to fight someone, a dress that pooled at her feet might not have been the _most_ practical).

She isn't expecting to see anyone there.

(Though, in hindsight, Dipper wasn't in his bed. She hadn't noticed, though.)

Dipper seems exhausted, reading through the journal with an almost manic obsession, fingers pressed against the edges and hands shaking (from the lack of sleep, caffeine, or both, Mabel doesn't know) as he mouths the words silently to himself.

She could greet him with a cheerful shout or an overly exuberant clap to the back, but Mabel is also tired and she does not want to offer any plastic smiles to Dipper right now.

"Caffeine isn't good for your anxiety," she says instead, picking up his cup of the coffee/hot chocolate hybrid and dumping it down the sink.

Dipper lets it go without a fight, perhaps understanding just how bad he's gotten. "Can't sleep," he mumbles, eyes still trained on the book.

"Can't?"

Mabel clicks her tongue against the back of her teeth and pulls the book away.

Dipper's finger tighten.

A moment passes.

One.

Two.

He lets the book go on _three_ , face shuttering as though he's only just realizing how bad it's gotten.

"I can't..." Dipper closes his eyes, "Won't."

"Figures," Mabel says it like a sigh, but her thumbs giving her away, fiddling against each other and moving like light rays. "Nightmares?"

"Just..." Dipper stares at his hands. He has little, dotted red scabs, barely visible, and when he holds out his wrists they look as innocent as freckles, sitting there as though they aren't proof of when Bill was in his body. "What if he tricks me again? What if I see something that makes me so desperate... or he words it in a way... or I think that I'm being clever when really I'm just being stupid or... or..."

His breath is a shuttering thing, pounding in his chest like a tree branch on glass on a stormy day.

"You won't," Mabel flicks his forehead and raises her eyebrows, "You're too paranoid for that."

Dipper laughs.

"That's not a good thing," Mabel reminds him.

Dipper buries his face in his arms.

Mabel forces herself not to flinch when his sleeves move down and there's a long, jagged scab from when Dipper fell down the stairs.

"What do I do, Mabel?" he asks quietly.

"Here's what we're going to do," Mabel sits up and takes Dipper's hand in her's, "We're going to our room. You'll brush your teeth, wash your hands, and then we'll sleep in my bed."

Dipper stands up, "Your bed is a bit small," He says, a wry, slanted smile on his lips.

"Then we'll shove our beds together," Mabel is undeterred, "It'll all work out. You'll see."

Dipper looks unbearably fond, eyes soft and nose scrunched as he smiles at her, "Thank you," he says, quietly. It's barely a whisper, but she hears it anyway.

"Yeah, well," Mabel huffs, "What else am I supposed to do about my stupid brother when he won't sleep?"

And they conclude the night as such, brushing teeth and Mabel pretending to foam at the mouth, Dipper laughing as she swings her braid smack into his face, reading worn books (but no journals) under their covers with flashlights, giggling together and laughing at Grunkle Stan when he comes in around three to squint at them as they move their furniture in the noisiest way possible ( _kids_ , he sighs, and picks up their bed's side, _you take the other side, and we'll lift. These floorboards can't handle all this scraping_ ).

It isn't perfect.

Dipper still has that scar on his arm when Mabel wakes in the morning.

But it's okay, somehow, because she has him and he has her and together, they can get through this.


End file.
